


Dance for Me

by scarlettefox



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Biting, F/M, Harems, Light BDSM, Loki Does What He Wants, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettefox/pseuds/scarlettefox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Loki's (albeit short) reign in Asgard, he enacts an old tradition long-favored by uncommitted rulers: a harem to relieve the weighty tensions of overseeing an entire realm. Narrator (OFC) is one such volunteer - and a dancer. First Person POV. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance for Me

“You wished to see me, my Lord?” 

At the sound of my voice, the king’s eyes flickered upward. His mouth remained perfectly still as he raised a single, pale finger and beckoned me forward. 

Every click of my heels echoed tenfold in the high-ceilinged chamber. The throne gleamed in the golden glow of twilight, its occupant visible only in shadows and outlines. As I approached, a single command issued from his dark lips. 

“Stop.” 

Ten feet from his throne I halted, caught in a window of golden light that streamed between two pillars. It nearly blinded me, rendering his tall frame even more difficult to discern. As he approached, the darkness swept across his handsome face like a curtain withdrawing, revealing the sharp, aristocratic nose, strong brow, and pointed chin. Only his eyes remained dark, the lust inside them swirling thick with need. 

Just a few days prior, he had succeeded the Allfather, and now, he had enacted an old tradition long-favored by uncommitted rulers: a harem to relieve the weighty tensions of overseeing an entire realm. The most beautiful Aesir were selected per the king’s wishes from a pool of volunteers, male and female. Certainly, there had been many for Thor on the eve of his coronation - his having not yet chosen a bride - but I had not been a member of that movement. I far preferred brains to mere brawn; strength of mind to that of might. A clever ruler would outwit his enemy; a foolish king, attempt to out-arm him. The new king’s lean physique pulsed with energy, and coupled with his miraculous mind, made my inner thighs quake. 

“You will do anything I ask, won’t you?” Loki, king of Asgard, tipped my slender chin to meet his gaze. 

It was easy to forget I had limbs when my king looked on me in such a way. I had never thought he would call for me so soon, when the pool of available talent was rife with beauty and skill. But his summons fueled a swift and earnest response. 

“Your form intrigues me,” he said, his eyes sweeping the translucent ivory gown. “Word in the palace is, your movements to music make my chambermaids blush. I hope you did not intend to conceal this exquisite talent from your king.” 

Now it was I who blushed. I recovered with an innocent smile. “I would not be so quick to deem my dancing exquisite, your highness. But if you desire such entertainment, I will gladly - “

“Hush.” Fingers still at my chin, he brought his thumb to my lips, parting them. Feeling a rush of sudden boldness, I darted the tip of my pink tongue over its crest, gently sucking, and looked into his dark green eyes for approval. 

With a startling clang, his scepter hit the floor, alerting his guards. My heart skipped. For a moment I feared I had shown traitorous disrespect. The guards flanked me, grasping my shoulders with heavy, forceful hands. 

“Escort her to my chambers,” Loki told them, “and have the servant girls prepare her to…showcase her talents. One hour.” 

I exhaled, relieved and elated. My king bid me momentary adieu with a promising glare. 

 

•••••

 

The servant girls were not so resolute in their purity as the chambermaids, and I suspected that my king took frequent advantage of their lack of distance and reserve. They knew precisely the king’s particular tastes, first bathing me in water perfumed with the petals of Avisong, a flower that blossomed brilliant gold in sunlit ponds. They fluffed my hair so it rose, voluminous and full, and moved like ripples in a stream. Two of the girls held my arms while another pair applied light oil to my skin: massaging it into my shoulders, palming it over my breasts, and smoothing it between my thighs. I let out a tiny “oh!” at the sensation of four slick hands moving in tandem over my most sensitive regions, and one of the girls smiled up at me. 

“His highness adores breathy moans,” she confided, and slicked some oil over my bum cheeks. 

I was nervous. I had never danced for anyone but myself, loving the cathartic release of writhing limbs. That the king’s chambermaids had seen me was pure coincidence. Had I known their proximity, I might have toned it down a bit - an audience made it difficult to lose myself. A private audience of my king made it damn near impossible. 

Prepared to his majesty’s liking, the servant girls draped me in a sheer golden veil, made of fabric so thin and soft it was like being encircled by sunlight. Every curve was visible. I could make out the soft, dark circles of my nipples as the girls arranged the material around me. One of the girls raised a delicate metal instrument to my chest and barely touched its freezing tip to each nipple - the effect was instantaneous. They rose to firm, excited buds, alert and ready.   

There was a small knock at the door. 

“We leave you now, my lady,” one girl said. “Wait a few moments, then enter the chamber.” 

I nodded, and they departed. 

Exhaling, I counted slowly to ten, then took a final glance in the mirror at my readied body before entering the chamber. 

It was dark, save for a fire burning over a massive log in the large, stone fireplace. Green flames sparked with blue…the effect was hypnotic. 

“I do not like to be kept waiting.” 

The voice came from my left, beside the enormous silken bed. The king stood before a wooden cabinet, dressed in a full length black robe without the slightest trace of leather or metal, pouring scarlet liquid into a crystal chalice. He sipped it, staring at me over the rim of his glass. 

“My apologies, my king. The girls wanted to be certain I was readied to your liking.” 

His eyes swept over me, fixating on my chilled nipples. “And so they have succeeded,” he said. 

He swept his robe aside, finding his place in a wingback chair. His long fingers came to rest on its throne-like arms, the left hand gently swirling his drink. 

“Tell me, my pet, why do you dance?” 

An unexpected question. “Because…it’s expressive. It can be beautiful in its purity.”  

“Like some other things,” he said. He glanced up at me as he slid his middle finger along the curve of the chair’s slender arm, stroking it so delicately, I wondered if he touched it at all. I felt my lips part, imagining such a touch on the curl of my calf. 

“Would you like to show your king your ‘purity’ as you so aptly put it?” 

“Yes - yes, my Lord,” I answered breathily. 

From somewhere distant, music began to play. It was full of low, pulsing rhythms, strings that curled like serpents; a delicate, exotic beat that, normally, would entrance my hips to sway, my arms to curl - all but now. Now, Loki’s green eyes flamed with desire. 

“Show me,” he commanded in a low voice. 

I reached for the tips of the veil, pulling it from my hair. My nipples tugged at the fabric, which stiffened them still further. The veil slipped from my shoulders, pooling at my ankles. The firelight glistened off my well-oiled limbs. I stood bare before my king. 

Watching for his expression and seeing no change, my insides quivered. I took a breath, and bid my limbs not to shake as I exhaled. Instead, I focused on the music’s pulsing rhythm, trying to remember how to lose myself. 

Loki raised his arm, stopping me before I could lift a foot.  

“I sense reservation.” He disrobed, revealing his lean chest and silken breeches. “Dare I advise a way to dispel such obstacles?” 

“Please, my Lord.” 

The crystal goblet he held glinted in the firelight. “This,” he said as he stepped nearer, “is Alfheim wine, made by the Elves from berries unheard of in this Realm. Liquid velvet. It hits the very back of your tongue.” His thumb pet my chin as he spoke. “Would you care to taste it?” 

I looked up into his eyes, smiling my reply.

He raised the glass, nicking it against my nipple as it rose close to my lips. I lifted my hands to cup the chalice, but he rose it past my lips to meet his own, glaring down at me as he sipped before gripping the small of my back and meeting our lips, opening my mouth with his dart of a tongue to allow the flood of rare wine to flow. It swirled in my hot mouth, and coated my throat in a thick, honeyed glaze. My head dropped to one side. I felt my breasts brush his chest as my spine curled backward. 

When I opened my eyes he was not before me, but had returned to his chair, where he watched me, framed like an eclipse against the firelight. And then it happened.

It began like it always has: every movement aware, connected - and the next, transfixed, moving at the volition of ordained beats: a felt rhythm, an organic melody. 

I became a personification of every note. My back curled and re-curled, undulating with erotic energy. My arms drifted upward, fingers delicately flexed against the air, before falling like dead weight, propelling me into the next beat. My hips bent and swooned, the rest of my body following their direction. Every movement was slow and strong, controlled yet fluid, all at once.

So driven was I by my subconscious, I forgot for whom I was dancing. It felt as though I were alone, same as always - until I opened my eyes. My audience sat quietly, watching me with a heavily lidded gaze as I shared every secret I owned. I allowed that gaze to possess me, as my body possessed him. 

Hours it felt that I writhed and twisted the air for his pleasure, and yet it was mere minutes before I found myself suddenly, and undoubtedly by some element of magic, before his wing-back chair, positioned between his spread thighs. 

“If your body can move that way,” he whispered, his voice hot and low, “I wonder what talents your bold little tongue might be hiding.” 

I sank to my knees before my king, still in a kind of trance from the enigmatic pulse of this enchanted music. I dragged my fingertips across the laces of his silken lounging breeches, using my teeth to slowly pull the strings loose. When the material gave, I gasped, in awe of what my dancing had done to him. 

He hissed, the sting of cool air meeting his ultra-sensitive tip.

I licked the head of his pulsing cock. My tongue ringed its circumference, teasing in light, little circles before lapping up the first wet drips at the very tip: small, deft licks that I knew would drive his need still further. 

His long fingers flexed in my hair, shooting electric tingles down my spine. I moaned lightly, meeting his eyes with a coy, innocent little look as I dragged my tongue up his full length. 

“May I be so bold, my Lord, as to make a request?” I asked as breathily and as sweetly as I could. 

His eyes flashed and his hand in my hair tightened. “You may; however, I may choose to deny it.” 

“A cup of hot water, filled with peeled grapes.” 

It felt idiotic to say aloud, yet I saw his lips twitch in a curious smirk. 

“What plans have you, my dear?” 

“I promise you, my Lord, it will supplement my efforts in…” I lightly stroked his length, loving the way it trembled at my touch, “…relieving you.” 

His finger swept my cheekbone, and I sighed with happiness. 

“You have stirred my curiosity,” he said. “I shall indulge your request, my wanton pet.” 

He inserted his pointer finger between my lips and ordered, “Suck.” His free hand twisted in the air, conjuring my odd request. As he worked, I applied strong suction to his digit - a promise of my abilities in more sensitive regions. I could almost feel his smile, and it spurred me to lavish his slender finger with attention. 

I sighed, opening my eyes, and saw his hand lower beside me, gifting me with the chalice of peeled grapes in their steaming bath. I smiled, taking the chalice and letting his finger slip from my lips with a loud, wet POP. 

“Your highness is most kind, entrusting me to administer his pleasure,” I said, pressing my breasts together as I raised the chalice to my lips. “I will gladly accept any punishment, should your highness not enjoy this.” 

He chuckled darkly. “Do not promise that which you do not understand, my pet.” 

I took a heady gulp of the concoction. 

Not possessing the same equipment as a male, I could not attest to the true sensations derived from such an act; but as I slowly slid his thick, veined member into the steaming pool of my mouth, his low groan confirmed my suspicions of unbelievable pleasure. The peeled grapes swirled, aiding my tongue in stimulating his royal shaft in soft, tiny bumps of fleshy, hot, wet supplication. I worked every inch of his enormous length, pressing my hands against his pelvis to ascertain stability as I pumped his throbbing, wet cock like it was my sole desire in life. 

I felt his groans of pleasure wrack his entire body, his shudder reaching to the very furthest inch.

I momentarily relinquished his cock and spit the mixture back into the chalice. 

His fingers gripped my wrists. “ _What_ are you doing?” 

“Preparing to receive you, my Lord,” I said. “I wish to taste you…undiluted.” 

“I did not give you permission to cease.” His eyes darkened, his voice quieted. He stroked his thigh. “Come here.” 

He yanked me over his thighs without awaiting my reply. I squealed, feeling my pert little bum raised, directly beneath his gaze. 

“Such a ripe little ass you have, my sweet whore. My servants were right in choosing you for my personal use.” 

I breathed heavily, feeling my breasts bounce against the underside of his thigh. “Did…I not please you?” 

“Oh, that sinful little mouth pleased me greatly. What did not, was your assumption that I wished to gift you with my release so soon.” 

He ghosted a hand over my bum, sending a tingle through me, before smacking one cheek, then the other. I let out an “ooh!” feeling them jiggle. 

“Tell me where you learned to use your mouth in such a way,” he demanded. 

“I have pleased men before, though never one such as you, my king - ooh!” I cried out as he delivered another round of spankings. 

“You’re correct,” he growled. “There are no men like me.” _Smack, smack._ “Only experienced women know such tricks.” _Smack, smack_. “You know what that tells me, little whore? That you love cock.” A single, firm _Smack._ “You crave cock. You ache to let me fuck you, to the extent you’ll greedily suck my finger. You desire nothing more than to serve as a little fuck puppet, don’t you?” 

I cried out as spankings, harder this time, rained down on my bum. My cheeks were sore and pink, but I was his. He would fill me with his sweet cum, he had to. I dreamed of nothing except granting him the most exquisite pleasure. 

“Ah! _Ah!_ ” I moaned breathily, as the servant girl had suggested.

The next moment, he shoved me from his lap with a low grunt. As I tumbled to the floor, he grabbed me and easily dropped me onto his enormous bed. I sighed against the cool silken sheets. My head dropped to one side, and when it did, my eyes fell on the black leather riding crop mere inches from my face. 

I looked up at my king’s hovering shadow. “Does his majesty wish to discipline me?” 

“I wish to break you of your boldness,” he said, straddling me with his cock half-sheathed inside his leather breeches. 

I misunderstood. I thought I had been perfectly acquiescent to his majesty’s wishes. He must have sensed the confusion in my eyes, for he chuckled. 

“You are bold in your willingness, dear one. So unafraid of me. I find it rather…stirring.” 

I swallowed. 

“As my _slave_ ,” he hissed, pressing the soft bit into my cheek, “you will only respond to what I offer.” He stopped, and peered down between my legs, which he parted with his knee. “How long has it been since your cunt was spanked?” 

“Never, my king,” I answered with a suggestive bite of my lip. 

“Hmm.” He lightly dragged the tip of the crop, up and down, sparking the most sensitive spot between my folds and eliciting a high cry. He smiled. “You have a very pretty little cunt, my pet. I’ll bet you’d like me to fill it.” 

“Yes, my Lo - AH!” I screamed, receiving an unexpected smack against the soft, wet flesh. While the force behind the blow had been very mild, the unexpectedness of it sent stars shooting behind my eyes. 

He laughed darkly. “I told you, little one, you will only respond to what I offer. I am not some Aesir boy you can seduce with moans and heavy-lidded gazes…no, I am something rather more than that; something altogether different than anything you’ve ever experienced.” 

The next smack came with forewarning. I watched as his eyes lit up, and tensed before he could deliver the second round. 

His tongue peeked between his teeth as he assessed his work thus far. “You’re rather pink, now, aren’t you? And also…” He dragged a finger up my slit and held it in the light. “…So very, very wet. Is this for me, love? Or do you simply adore being used as a whore?” 

“For…for you,” I said.

He wiped the bit of the crop on the sheets before tossing it aside, and prowled forward. His shoulder blades moved like those of a feline predator as his shadow covered me. I exhaled rapidly, feeling a strange coolness emanating from his skin. He touched my cheek with the back of his middle finger, still hovering as he kicked his silken breeches to the floor, and slowly descended upon me. I sighed under his full, naked weight, and felt his growing need pressing into my abdomen. 

He peered at me. “What, no pleas for me to fill you? No voiced desires from my prettiest concubine?” He stroked my waistline. 

“I’m a quick study, my Lord.” 

He laughed, a wide smile breaking his dark features. “Yes, I believe you are, my clever girl.” I felt his smile in my neck as lips rose to my ear. “And clever girls are always rewarded.” 

A full spectrum exploded before my eyes. Before I could realize the full impact of his movement, it happened again - and again - and again, until I was startled into reality by the sheer force with which he drew my hips to meet his in a shattering crack. Sheathing and un-sheathing himself at a nearly unstoppable pace, my king pistoned me. His teeth grit as he moved, though I could feel his smile against my shoulder as every thrust inspired a high-pitched cry from my throat. 

“I wonder,” he said between thrusts, “how fast that lovely skin of yours can heal?” 

I showed, rather than told, him my approval by meeting his hips midway, bucking enthusiastically. 

He bit down - hard. I screamed but loved the way he felt, marking me as his. 

His response was to bite even harder, until I felt a warm trickle that I wasn’t sure was sweat, blood, or a concoction of both sliding down my breast. My head fell backward as he arched his back, riding me with unparalleled force. I caught a glimpse of his hungry smile, and saw his teeth rimmed with red. 

“Cry out for me,” he growled, slamming into me. “Cry out for your king!” 

It was as if he produced my orgasm on demand. My release overtook me, sending me over the edge as I screamed his name - his true name. 

“ _Loki!_ ” 

He hissed and his arms shuddered, sending his back into an arch as he punched his final thrust, and I felt the flood of his release warm my entire core. 

I exhaled in a cry, falling back to the feel of silken sheets; to a wetness that mingled his sweat, my blood, and both of our juices. 

It was a moment before I could open my eyes. When I did, I realized that he was still atop me, licking the blood from the wound on my left shoulder. Even that act seemed unspeakably erotic, and I felt a momentary resurgence of the swell in my lower half. He met my eyes as his tongue swept up the remaining droplets, and ghosted a finger across the deep cuts, revealing nothing more than a half-moon-shaped shadow in its wake. 

“Thank you,” I sighed at his magic. 

He kissed the spot and glanced up at me with a knowing grin. “Oh, it’s not invisible, darling. Every time you dance for me, it will get darker…and darker.” His lips wet the shell of my ear. “I’ve decided it will stay here, etched in your skin, for as long as you are mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm often on the prowl for shamelessly plot-less smut fics, and figured I'd add to the archives for similarly minded individuals ;D Thanks for reading.


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